


Blue Moon

by MyLadyDay



Series: Blue moon [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, First Meetings, Heavy flirting, M/M, Pre-Slash, Werewolf Marco, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: The full moon was more of a strong suggestion than an unavoidable curse; Marco could, and did, shift at will. The full moon, though, made him grow restless until he gave in to the urge to let his instincts lead just this once. Mostly it was just a long run in the forest, evading the other creatures that roamed the night just like him. Mostly.Once in a while, he did something stupid though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Update 16 Feb 2020: Due to the ongoing bullshit with that unofficial AO3 app, all my works are now locked and available only to registered users. DO NOT COPY MY WORK TO OTHER SITES, THIS INCLUDES TRANSLATIONS MADE WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

As always, it had started just days before the full moon. Marco was more than aware of the lunar cycle, attuned to it in his own way and he could relate maybe a little. 

The itching under his skin started around the same time and every month, he would be occupied by too much at once. He would stand on the porch with his morning coffee, enjoying the sight of the first rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, momentarily distracted from the unease and the anticipation. 

The assorted weirdos and local oddities would start their walk of shame from the forest some time around his third or fourth sip.

They hurried out of the forest, mostly one by one or the odd group of those ghost hunting crews trying to catch something worth televising. Marco rarely paid attention in the evening, when they would make their way into the forest just as the sun was setting because he really didn’t need to know why people were so willing to risk certain death by going into the woods around the full moon. It was really none of his business, at least not once he’d made sure they were all just run of the mill supernatural enthusiasts with a lack of common sense.

Those were not his problem.

Marco watched them skitter out of the forest, definitely more rattled than they’d usually look the night before. He could smell the fear and then the relief on them, once the sun was out and the forest was behind them. It was always the same, and always worse on the night of the actual full moon. Maybe it was a tiny bit amusing too, some mornings when he had nothing better to do than observe the rare bouts of traffic in his part of the woods. After all, no one really passed through that area otherwise.

Whether that said something about the people in question or Marco’s life choices, who could tell.

It had been unnerving that first time, back when it was all the rage to go camping and look for witches in the dead of night, far from civilization, and Marco had found himself with three college kids scared shitless and reeking of fear trying to climb through his kitchen window. The shock had lessened since, while his annoyance only got worse. The lack of common sense offended him personally, since he knew exactly what went bump in the night in those parts. 

After all, he was one of those things that went bump in the night.

The sun was already fully above the trees by the time he caught the scent and the wolf in him, restless and itching to get out, focused on how _new exciting curious_ that was. It was new enough to make him put down his coffee, and that was a feat in and of itself. The tang of herbs and fire reached him, subtle enough that no one else would pick it up, but so out of place that it had to draw his attention. 

Wolfsbane, sage, thyme and...rosemary?

Were it not for the wolfsbane, Marco would have thought it was just another camper smelling like herbs used to season a stew. And then there was the scent of fire too, a tinge of magic lacing it just enough to make him curious. Not a camper or a ghost hunter then, Marco could tell, but he still couldn’t quite see where the scent was coming from. The heavy forest air muffled it, made it impossible for him to get anything more specific than the bare minimum and it was enough to make him forego picking up his coffee.

With his eyes trained at the tree line stretching out towards the horizon east of his house, Marco waited with bated breath, hoping the source of this _exciting new thrilling_ scent would appear. 

The minutes passed by at a snail’s pace, and yet nothing happened. For a moment, it was extremely disappointing. Then Marco sniffed the air with a new focus, sure it must have been coming from the tree line for him to even pick up the trail of a scent. Sure it had to be close, hoping it was close because he didn’t want to be tempted to actually search for whatever it was.

Nothing good ever came out of him following his nose, not this close to a full moon, not when he knew so little about what it was that got him curious. 

Someone broke the tree line then, stepping out into the clearing where Marco could see the dirt on his boots and the stains on his jeans. The bruises around his knuckles that clutched a book and a small leather pouch. The smell of blood and sweat permeated the air as soon as he came within eyesight, but Marco couldn’t see any injuries that would go with the scent of blood. The bruises looked mild enough, noticeable to Marco only because he was looking with rapt attention. 

The curiosity only became more prominent as he watched this man walk away from the forest, not a trace of fear clinging to him. He was completely relaxed, if a bit tired looking, and Marco really needed to know more. The wolf in him needed to follow this.

But he was still fully in control, the full moon’s grip on him still weak enough for Marco to resist shifting and stalking some poor unsuspecting college kid just because he smelled _good exciting new_. God, he was really not a fan of the full moon and somehow it had nothing to do with the fact that he turned into a wolf then went for a run in the woods that usually ended with blood in his mouth. 

With some amount of difficulty, Marco grabbed his coffee again, eyes following the figure that walked at a sedate pace towards town. His feet remained planted on the porch and his hand only shook a little before he lost sight of the stranger. The scent lingered, so out of place and still leading into the forest, but it grew weaker by the moment, disappearing into the heavy air of the forest. 

The wolf was more interested in going to town anyway, so Marco finished his coffee and steadily ignored that urge while he still could. He was too old to lose control fully, even during a full moon, but reason was a lot less fun to follow than pure instinct. 

Marco’s instinct was usually nothing but trouble. Usually, he didn’t really mind it either because trouble was fun once in a while, but he was also too old to get into trouble before giving the reins over to the wolf. He'd have plenty of time for that after nightfall, with the rest of the day ahead of him to enjoy the fact he still had some self control left. 

There was, however, a clock on that and Marco was almost excited for it. Full moons during the fall were his favorite; from the cold air and the fog, to the crunch of leaves under his paws, his breath fogging in front of his mouth during the run. Just thinking of it was exciting, and making it easier for him to forget about the weirdos and the oddities, and that one stranger with his big leather book and the bruises on his knuckles.

* * *

The full moon was more of a strong suggestion than an unavoidable curse; Marco could, and did, shift at will. The full moon, though, made him grow restless until he gave in to the urge to let his instincts lead just this once. Mostly it was just a long run in the forest, evading the other creatures that roamed the night just like him. Mostly. 

Once in a while, he did something stupid though.

Marco had a feeling this full moon would be one of _ those,_ he’d known the moment he dropped his clothes in a pile on the porch and shifted to ease the tightness of his skin. The relief was instant, flooding him while his skin rippled and his bones rearranged themselves between one breath and the next. 

The world around him was different instantly, full of smells and sounds and _ potential_. His mind was supplying a steady stream of _ run run run _ and there was nothing in him that could object to that anymore. He took off from the porch and towards the forest, the wind whipping at his ears until he slipped between the trees. His paws thudded against the layer of leaves on the forest floor, the sound muffled as he ran deeper into the forest. He was a ghost here, passing by without a sound or a trace, disappearing deeper and deeper into the forest.

Nothing mattered but the freedom and the trail he was treading, even if he wasn’t sure where it led. His instinct was in charge, and it just told him to run and let go and to follow a trail that maybe didn’t even exist, but that didn’t matter because he was following it. The freedom was overwhelming, filling his nostrils and flaring in his chest, making him powerful with the knowledge he could let go.

The freedom was replaced with fire and burning herbs, the heavy scent of sage almost masking the wolfsbane and the thyme and the presence of a person intertwined with them. 

Almost, but not quite.

Before he could consciously make a decision to follow this trail, Marco already found himself running towards it, the mantra of _ run run run _ replaced with a new curiosity. He’d almost forgotten about the scent and the urge to follow it since the first time it appeared, too distracted by his shift in priority, but it was too strong to ignore when faced with a still burning fire.

He could tell the fire was burning somewhere in the forest, warm and heavy with the soothing scent of sage mixed with the threat of wolfsbane. It felt stupid to follow it, dangerous, but the instinct was in charge and the wolf was itching for some danger of the unknown.

His lungs burned as he followed the scent that soon turned from wisps caught in the wind to strands of smoke lingering lazily between the trees. His lungs burned with every deep breath of smoke, but he didn’t stop or lose focus, the curiosity much stronger than the discomfort. Marco could tell he was getting close by the intensity of the smoke and the flicker of a light between the trees. 

He knew this forest like the back of his hand even when he walked on two legs, let alone like this with his instinct and his nose, and he could tell there was a small clearing ahead with a weird looking rock almost right in the middle. Marco could picture the markings carved into the surface of the stone, partially covered with moss and ivy, but he never knew what they meant. He wondered if the person with the fire knew. 

Despite the instinct prevailing, there was still some common sense left in him. Marco approached the edge of the clearing, just outside of the warm circle of light. The air was thick with _ exciting new curious _ all around the clearing, and Marco briefly wondered if anyone else was following the same scent down the same tantalizing trail. Just the thought of it made him growl before he even realized he was doing it, breaking the uneasy silence that was settled between the trees. 

Marco could see a person hunched over the stone in the clearing, gaze directed unnervingly right at him. The sound he’d made was too loud in the silence, and it was making him uneasy that he’d exposed himself like that before taking a good look at what he’d found.

“You can join me, Mr. Wolf,” the man in the clearing said, sounding awfully calm for someone doing something shady in the middle of the woods during a full moon. Beckoning a werewolf closer, during a full moon, no less. 

The litany of _ exciting new curious _ only intensified with that. This man was brave and Marco could appreciate that in either of his states of being. The wolf just had a stronger affinity for that kind of appreciation. 

With probably too much excitement and not enough caution, Marco stepped out from the cover of the forest and into the light, still sniffing the air around him. It shouldn’t have smelled so interesting, and yet it did, but the wolfsbane was making him lightheaded. Not enough for it to be a problem yet, so he chose not to worry about it for the time being.

“You’re a beautiful big bad wolf, aren’t you?” the man said with a grin, still not afraid, still not moving from the stone.

Briefly, Marco wondered if he should be the one that’s afraid.

“Are you here to keep me company, Mr. Wolf?” he asked, eyes never straying from the Marco. “I have to admit I could use the company tonight.”

Marco stepped closer with the bare minimum of caution he’d normally advise in a situation like this. But he recognized this man from days ago; his book and his black hoodie and the bruises on his hands, the smell of blood mixing with everything else as Marco closed the distance between them. He hadn’t noticed the freckles from a distance, their number seemingly endless and Marco was almost getting lost in them. They were very distracting. 

“You can’t talk though, can you?” he continued, finally looking away from Marco. “That’s a bit of a bummer. I’m Ace, by the way.”

_ Ace. _

Marco wanted to say that out loud, willed himself to remember to do that as soon as he could speak. It sounded curious. Interesting. He moved closer still, until he could actually sniff Ace just to quell the curiosity.

Ace only laughed at the press of Marco’s nose against the back of his hand.

“How badly would you maim me if I tried to pet you?” Ace asked, sounding only a tiny bit worried.

Normally, Marco would not let anyone pet him like this. He wasn’t a god damn dog and, generally speaking, getting this close to him on a full moon was a colossaly bad idea. But he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of Ace scratching him behind his ears.

So Marco pushed his nose against Ace’s hand in a gesture that hopefully didn’t seem threatening. That wasn’t one of his usual concerns, so he was feeling a bit out of his depth. Luckily, Ace seemed to get it and he laughed a bit before his fingers reached behind Marco’s left ear and scratched lightly. 

Marco caught himself wondering why he hadn’t let people do this sooner.

“Big bad wolf’s not so bad after all, huh?” Ace said with a laugh. 

Marco kind of wanted to bite him just a bit to show that he wasn’t normally this much of a puppy. This was all a kind of unique situation for him, as far as his full moons went.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Ace said as if he knew exactly what Marco was thinking. Maybe he did and that would definitely be interesting. 

“I didn’t actually come here to make a new friend, though,” Ace said as he removed his hand from Marco’s head and turned his attention to the stone and the book on it. “You can keep me company if you want, but I’m sure you have other things to do.”

He did have other things to do. Like run all night then pass out on his own porch like a complete fool, also maybe drink from the possibly cursed stream a couple of miles deeper into the forest and possibly stop by Shanks’ cabin before morning and leave a deer carcass on his steps because that was hilarious every time. He had a specific expression for Marco every morning after a full moon if he’d found something on his porch. It was honestly the only reason Marco kept doing it.

Ace’s attention was on the book, the palm of his hand pressed flat against the surface of the stone. He was mumbling to himself, words Marco didn’t understand. Didn’t have to understand to be mesmerized by the sound of them or the sight of Ace’s hand lighting up where it touched the stone, his skin shimmering a warm orange before the light spread, breaking through the moss to outline the markings carved into the surface.

His freckles shone with that fiery glow, like the embers of a dying flame, reflected in his eyes and Marco was overcome with the warmth of that fire.

The smell of burning herbs grew more intense with the light, along with the scent of blood sticking to Ace’s skin. Marco was strongly averse to that particular scent, and he couldn’t put together why exactly that was at the time. In hindsight, that was an issue.

Ace continued muttering though, obviously reading from the book that was propped open in front of him. Marco still didn’t understand, but that didn’t stop the curiosity. 

The decision to settle in next to Ace instead of running off into the forest was an impulse one, but Marco didn’t spare a moment to regret it. Ace’s voice was a soothing hum cutting through the smoke and wrapping around Marco, soothing the sharpness he was accustomed to. The energy usually bursting out of him during a full moon was muted, feeling less like a tidal wave ready to consume him and more like a smoldering fire buzzing under his skin. It was actually kind of pleasant and Marco wanted it to last as long as possible.

Ace paid him no mind, just continued his reciting with his attention on the book, and Marco was sure that had been the reason he didn’t notice something approaching the clearing. 

Marco noticed though, through the smoke, and the haze of wolfsbane and the distraction that was Ace’s everything. He was still a wolf and his overwhelming protectiveness seemed to extend to Ace in that moment, and Marco was on his feet in a heartbeat, stalking along the tree line. Something was coming at them with clear intent, but Marco couldn’t recognize what or who it was just yet, leaving him to prowl and wait.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had noticed that Ace stopped talking, but it barely registered as his eyes caught sight of movement between the trees. Marco growled in warning, ready to pounce and fight and _ protect._

He growled again, cutting through the sparse sounds of the forest, low and dangerous. The sound carried across the forest floor, leaving silence in its wake. The movement between the trees stopped as well for a moment, before a whimper jump started the sounds around them. Whatever was coming for them retreated silently back into the forest and Marco’s chest welled with protective pride as he turned to find Ace looking at him.

“Hm, maybe you are a big bad wolf after all, aren’t you, Mr. Wolf?” Ace asked, eyes shining with something other than the light coming from the stone.

It sounded like something between a real question and a rhetorical one, but Marco’s proud wolf brain decided to take Ace’s words as a compliment. He was very big and bad, thank you very much, and it was nice to have someone acknowledge it.

“That was a Wendigo, you know,” Ace said. He sounded proud. Or impressed? Maybe amused. Marco wasn’t sure, but he liked the tone of his voice anyway.

“They’re not known to cower,” he added, observing Marco with something very curious in his expression. “You’re more interesting than just any wolf, aren’t you?” 

Once again, Marco couldn’t tell if that was a rhetorical question or a genuine one, but it still felt like another compliment to him. He was a fan of getting compliments, especially from handsome guys like Ace. It was all those freckles, Marco was sure, they made him a bit too trusting perhaps, but the wolf part of him really _ really _liked the freckles.

He was sure there were plenty of opportunities to blame a lot on those freckles in store for him.

* * *

Marco woke in his own bed, surrounded by the familiar smell of home. His limbs were heavy with a familiar bone deep exhaustion that followed a really good full moon run, filling him with a satisfaction he could only feel after a night in the forest. Staying in bed for a bit longer seemed like the best idea he’d had in a while, just to stop himself from considering everything he’d been up to the night before.

There was no denying that last night in particular was memorable in several new ways, and putting off analyzing his bad habit of being a dumbass for a while longer was just a part of his morning routine on mornings just like this one.

But the scent of blood and wolfsbane cut through the familiarity and Marco was starkly reminded that he hadn’t returned home alone. In the light of day, with his common sense returned to him to tamper down the instinct of a wolf, Marco had to skip the ignorance phase of his morning and face the music. His night could have gone very differently, and just thinking about it was making him feel like a stupid little pup with no control over his urges.

No one died, so that was a positive at least. It was setting the bar pretty low, but still a positive outlook on the situation.

But there was still an underlying scent of blood in his home, coming off a stranger he managed to invite into his personal space without the ability to speak, after a one sided introduction. Again, not the worst outcome of a full moon run, but definitely not the best one either. There was a pretty vulnerable period between his exhausted shift and being fully back to his senses that would have been so easy to exploit. 

Far too early, Marco was out of bed and in a pair of sweats before leaving the bedroom. He could smell coffee in the kitchen, mixed in with old paper and leather, that overpowered the blood in the air. None of it was Marco’s this time, and it wasn’t strong enough to imply Ace was seriously injured so he didn’t hurry out of his room.

Even if no one died, and no one was injured, that didn’t mean Marco wasn’t at least mildly embarrassed. About being so trusting all of a sudden, for one, and he definitely blamed the freckles for that one. Not so shockingly, Marco did agree with the wolf’s assessment of the freckles. 

The smell of coffee was incredibly distracting though, pushing any disgruntled thoughts of freckles and possible idiotic behavior aside for the time being. Marco was sure he could afford a tiny bit of denial still before he actually made it to the kitchen. 

Unfortunately for him at the moment, his house was pretty small and the walk wasn't that long. Ace's back came into view all too soon, where he was sitting on a barstool against the kitchen island, his hand loosely curled around Marco's favorite mug.

Marco stopped, just to take Ace in from this new perspective. He looked different like this, as much as was noticeable without seeing his face. There were freckles even on the back of his hand, visible even from the distance and partially through the bruises around the knuckles.

"I can feel you staring," Ace said without turning around, his slack grip on the mug tightening before he lifted it and took a sip.

His voice sounded different too, low and possibly even more soothing than it sounded the night before.

The mug was back on the island and Ace swiveled around on the barstool. Marco could see the way Ace's eyes raked over him from head to toe. The twitch of his eyebrows didn't go unnoticed, and neither did the quirk of his lips.

"Oh, you really are a _ beautiful _ big bad wolf," Ace said while his eyes made their way back up to meet Marco's. He didn't pose it as a question this time, rhetorical or otherwise, and there was no other way to take it other than as the compliment it was.

"Thank you," Marco said, voice slightly rough from hours of growling and howling like a good boy.

Maybe also because Ace giving him compliments felt really _ really _ good. Like curl-up-with-his-head-in-Ace's-lap-and-purr kind of good, and he wasn't exactly known to purr all that much.

"Thank you for making the coffee too," Marco added, making his way past Ace and around the kitchen island. "It smells really good."

He was kind of glad he didn't put on a shirt before coming out of the bedroom because Ace's eyes hadn't left him yet and Marco was feeling kind of warm because of it. He wasn't hating the attention one bit, and it was incredibly gratifying to know Ace was possibly just as curious about him as he was about Ace.

Sure, it was a different kind of curiosity than the one he had the night before, but the air around them suggested they were on the same page at the moment.

"I make really good coffee," Ace told him. "Wouldn't mind making it for you again."

When Marco looked over his shoulder, Ace was smiling softly behind the mug, the smile so clear in his eyes and that only made the warm feeling more intense. It almost felt like the smoldering fire from the night before, the sensation following the pull of a full moon, and it was a pull he had a hard time denying mostly.

Comparing Ace to a full moon seemed like a bit of a stretch though.

Marco turned fully towards Ace as he took a sip of his coffee, humming with his lips still on the rim of his mug.

"It is really good coffee," he said after a moment, because it was true.

It wasn't really one of the compliments he wanted to give Ace, but he figured there was time for all of those.

"Thank you," Ace said, "I appreciate it."

He was still smiling, coyly if Marco had to describe it, and it truly was a mesmerizing sight.

"You haven't introduced yourself, you know," Ace said, that smile still in place. "I don't mind calling you Mr. Wolf, but your real name would be nice to know."

Marco had to admit he didn't mind the nickname, even if it was a bit on the nose, but the way Ace said it sounded endearing enough. He usually wasn't one for terms of endearment, which this sounded suspiciously like, but Ace said it like a spell, like magic that filled the space around them and made Marco realize he may have been a closeted romantic all along.

"Marco," he said, opting out of commenting on the nickname. Ace could probably see right through him anyway.

"_ Marco _," Ace repeated it in the same voice he used for the nickname, and Marco couldn't help the little thrill that ran down his spine.

It also reminded him what he'd wanted the night before.

"Ace," he said, just to hear what it sounded. He _ really _ liked how it sounded.

Ace looked like he liked how it sounded too. A very good look on him.

"Yes, Marco?" Ace asked, that coy smile still there. He looked like he knew exactly how much Marco liked hearing his name spoken like that.

"Just wanted to say it out loud," Marco said with a smile of his own. "Since you seem to like saying my name."

"I do," Ace said without missing a beat. "You don't seem to mind."

Marco didn't mind at all, not when Ace was still looking at him like that, all smug and coy, hiding behind Marco's favorite mug. And doing it poorly.

It was fucking endearing and Marco was unsure what to make of that.

"Can't say that I do," he said honestly and got another smile from Ace.

Ace said nothing to that, just sipped his coffee and kept his eyes on Marco. Not really on one specific part of him, his gaze raking Marco's bare chest and traveling upwards once in a while to meet Marco's eyes. He wasn't hating the attention at all; standing under Ace's appreciative gaze was like basking in the warmth of the sun, and Marco always enjoyed the sun. The silence settled around them was comfortable to the point where Marco wasn't even considering asking some of the questions he'd had since he first saw Ace.

"As much as I'd love to stay here all day and watch you be all pretty and charming," Ace said, "I should get home and get some sleep."

"Now that you don't need a babysitter anymore," Ace added with a mischievous smile. "You're welcome by the way."

"I'm very grateful," Marco said, smiling back. There was an awful lot of smiling and he was surprised he meant every single smile. "Maybe I should make you some breakfast. To say thank you, you know, for the babysitting."

Ace laughed and Marco liked the sound of it very much. 

"Oh, pretty _ and _knows how to cook?" Ace said with a grin. "I'll have to keep that in mind for future reference."

"But you can't stay for breakfast today," Marco concluded.

Ace stood from the island and Marco didn't hide how much he appreciated the view. 

"I'm sure we'll see each other soon enough."

"Will you make sure of that or should I?" Marco asked, setting his mug down on the counter next to his hip. He also crossed his arms and watched how Ace's eyes were immediately drawn to the motion. 

"With those arms as incentive?" Ace asked, meeting Marco's eyes for a brief moment before looking back down. "I'm sure I can make something happen."

If Marco had been a lesser man, or just more awake at the time, he might have blushed.

"I'll see you soon, Marco," Ace said, throwing him another coy smile before he grabbed his book and pouch, and made his way towards the front door.

"Maybe you'll be shirtless next time too," he threw over his shoulder. "I'd like that very much."

"Bye, Ace."

The sound of Ace's laughter faded once he was out of the house and the door was shut behind him, but Marco could still hear it in his wake. He'd woken up with a fair amount of dread, but a very good cup of coffee and a pleasant conversation managed to brighten his day. Not an easy feat for the morning after a full moon, and not many could claim they'd achieved that. 

Still, it was the morning after a full moon and it was too damn early to be out of bed, especially since Ace had to leave so Marco gulped down the last of his coffee and made the rational decision to return to bed for a while longer.


	2. Chapter 2

Marco didn't have a habit of inviting people into his home on a good day, let alone just after a full moon, and yet there have already been two people in his house on the same day.

"Who let you in?" Marco asked without even opening his eyes. 

Shanks had a very distinct scent, a mix of his own and Benn's, that raised Marco's hackles because he hated the smell of another wolf in his home. Marco had nothing against Benn per se, but the wolf in him recoiled from this kind of violation of his territory. Shanks, on the other hand, had no qualms about coming over smelling like Benn. He looked like he _ liked _it too, the absolute bastard.

"I let myself in," Shanks said with a scoff, and Marco didn't actually have to look at him to see him sitting on the dresser with a glass of orange juice in his hand. "Your locks suck and you should probably change them."

"And you're here because you like watching me sleep?" Marco asked and finally opened his eyes, finding that Shanks was indeed sitting on the dresser, a half empty glass right next to him.

That dresser really wasn’t meant for some asshole to sit on it, which was probably the reason why Shanks always ended up there.

"You're cute when you snore, how could I resist," he said with that irritating grin of his and Marco wanted to punch him a bit. No more than usual anyway. "But not why I'm here this time."

"This time?" Marco asked, unable to stop his eyebrow from going up.

"I thought you died or something," Shanks said, pointedly ignoring Marco's question. "There was no dead animal on my porch that would be a pain in the ass to clean up in the morning. I don't remember the last time you didn't leave something to rot in front of my house to piss Benn off."

That, technically, wasn’t completely true, but Marco never felt the need to correct Shanks’ assumptions. Marco didn't really make the decision to leave dead stuff on Shanks’ porch consciously, but the wolf part of him was thrilled about pissing another wolf off just like the human side of him loved annoying the fuck out of Shanks. Pulling pranks on another wolf's mate was toeing a very thin line though, but he and Benn were friends so it all worked out without incident. 

Except for Shanks who had to regularly clean blood off his porch. Marco knew exactly how big of a pain it was during the summer heat, too.

"You're worried about me or worried that I found someone else to leave gifts for?" Marco asked with a grin of his own that made Shanks scoff again.

"You can shove those _ gifts _up your ass," Shanks told him before taking his glass and gulping down the juice that was still in it. The way his eyes narrowed when he said ‘gifts’ almost made Marco laugh because he thought he’d missed his chance to see that expression on Shanks’ face this time. He was so glad he hadn’t, and he didn’t even have to hunt anything to get it.

He hopped off the dresser, like he had any business sitting on it in the first place. The bastard.

"Come on, I made lunch," he said without turning around as he walked out of Marco's room. "And you'll be telling me all about your night because I don't worry for nothing."

“I didn’t know you worry at all,” Marco said with a groan, but still got out of bed. There was no going back to sleep with Shanks in the house. 

“I worry a reasonable amount when the situation calls for it,” Shanks replied from somewhere else in the house, not even bothering to raise his voice to pretend they were normal people like they usually did.

“Did the situation call for it just because I didn’t kill a deer for you?” Marco asked as he rifled through the stack of shirts in the closet until he found the ancient KISS shirt he knew Shanks hated with a passion.

“Would have taken a rabbit too really,” Shanks replied, and Marco could almost hear the shrug. “You know I don’t like change, wolf boy, so you can’t just break our routine like that for nothing.”

Marco rolled his eyes as he pulled the shirt over his head, noting not for the first time how ratty and old the thing actually was. It was more hole than shirt in some places, and it had his left nipple peeking out from one of them so honestly he was unsure why he even bothered with putting it on. (It was completely because Shanks had a _ thing _about KISS he never bothered explaining, but Marco could always tell he was itching to set that shirt on fire as soon as he saw it. Possibly while Marco was still in it, but that was neither here nor there.)

“Aw, Shanks, you never told me how important my gifts are to you,” Marco said on his way out of the bedroom.

“You can still shove them up your ass,” Shanks said without missing a beat, “but also you need to let me know in advance when you’re not gonna show up.”

“Okay, okay,” Marco said, hoping it at least sounded appeasing. “Next time I decide to do something better with my time, I’ll let you know.”

Shanks was standing next to the stove with a huge obnoxious grin on his face, staring right at Marco.

“And now that you gave me this very convenient opening, you get to tell me what _ was _a better use of your time.” The way he said that was incredibly smug, like there was some big secret Marco was keeping from him.

Technically, it wasn’t really a secret, but Marco was having a hard time explaining anything about his night.

“Well, I ran and then I growled a bit and there was magic in the woods and then I went home,” Marco said in the most vague and annoying way possible, just to wipe that smug look off Shanks’ face.

It had never escaped his notice how childish he got around Shanks, but Marco couldn’t help it, it was just a thing they did on a regular basis like a couple of five year olds. Which was only highlighted further with the unimpressed glare Shanks sent Marco’s way.

“You know you’re gonna tell me eventually,” Shanks said, looking away only long enough to place the lasagna on the table, thus making Marco feel like a bit of an ass. Shanks rarely made him lasagna and he couldn’t help but feel like it was a special occasion every time he did.

“Might as well skip the whole dance where you refuse to say until I annoy it out of you,” he added as he motioned for Marco to take a seat.

He wasn’t wrong, really, and he probably already knew that Marco did that whole thing just to rile him up on a good day. It didn’t feel like one of those days though, not while his house still had a vague scent of leather and sage and the coppery tang of Ace’s blood. 

It didn’t feel like one of those days because the remnants of Ace’s presence were already ingrained into the smell of home that Marco couldn’t even imagine its absence, and that thought alone was worth discussing with someone who might offer a word of wisdom.

“Fine,” Marco said as he sat down across from Shanks, focusing on the food in front of him. “I’ll tell you, but only because I have no idea what the fuck.”

Shanks seemed properly skeptical at that, probably because Marco rarely admitted he simply didn’t understand something.

“Go on,” Shanks said, obviously intrigued even if he was apprehensive about what Marco had to say.

“I met someone in the forest last night,” Marco said, unable to find a better way to explain whatever the whole thing with Ace was.

“Someone like another wolf or one of those Twilight obsessed groupies looking to bone something non-human?” Shanks asked with a very eloquently raised eyebrow.

The question made Marco pause; he hadn’t given much thought to the fact he had no idea what Ace was or what he was doing here in the middle of the night. Clearly, flirting had been the priority. 

“Not a wolf,” he said, “and not a weirdo either. No idea what he is.”

Shanks, of course, had to pick that moment to be insightful. Marco hated when Shanks got insightful and, dare he say, wise. “But your wolf instinct was into him enough to skip out on hunting last night?”

Marco nodded at that, feeling awfully awkward about it for some reason. He couldn’t really explain the thought process behind his actions because someone without the wolf instinct just couldn’t understand how it worked, not at its core. The animal part of him _ needed _ to follow Ace’s scent and know what was at the end of that trail, not for the sake of a hunt, but because he smelled like _ adventure _. 

“So what’s the problem?” Shanks asked. “You’ve done way worse than hump someone’s leg because of your instinct.”

Marco ignored Shanks’ words though, as things started aligning in his mind.

“Rouge left town, didn’t she?” he asked, ignoring Shanks’ affronted expression just as he’d ignored the question. 

“Yeah, she’s in Norway with Roger. Why?” Shanks asked, clearly picking his battles.

“Someone had to take over for her in the forest, right?” he asked, even though he was already sure of the answer.

His instincts were good for the most part and he trusted them with his life, but they also made him forget common sense and making logical connections. He’d been staring at the freckles so much and still hadn’t managed to recognize them.

“Her son came back to town to take over in the bookshop and probably the forest too,” Shanks told him with a raised eyebrow, as if to silently ask what the fuck was with that change of subject.

“What’s his name?” Marco asked, pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Ace,” Shanks said, just like Marco was expecting. 

“Don’t tell me Ace is your mystery someone,” Shanks said with a startled laugh. “Oh, that’s priceless.”

Marco only looked at him, not quite sure what to make of that reaction so he said as much.

“Care to elaborate?” he asked, not really expecting an explanation from Shanks, but still hoping for one.

“Nothing, nothing,” Shanks replied, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “It’s just that Ace is wicked smart, but also just plain wicked and he’s always been a lot to deal with if you don’t have the smarts to see through him.”

He stopped there, blinking a couple of times in thought before continuing. “Actually, I think you’d be really into that so I guess it’s a sign you met him.”

Well, Marco couldn’t very well deny that because he’d liked Ace so far, and knowing he was insanely smart too was far from bad.

“I can see you thinking about it,” Shanks said, pointing a spatula at him. “You’re not even denying that you have a kink for the evil genius type.”

“Would denying it make a difference?” Marco asked, pushing the spatula away with the tip of his finger. “I’ll deny everything if it’ll make you cut the lasagna faster, by the way.”

Shanks laughed at him, like he was prone to doing at any given moment no matter what Marco had to say. It was annoying as hell, but Marco was already used to it; there was no being Shanks’ friend without the subtle overlay of amusement at every turn. Mostly at Marco’s own actions.

He swore one day he’d stop giving Shanks the fuel, but it has yet to happen.

“Don’t be so impatient,” Shanks said, “not when I went through the trouble of cooking for you.”

He was cutting into the lasagna as he spoke, then serving a nice big piece onto Marco’s plate, suspiciously nicely really. Marco knew better than to blindly trust Shanks here.

“It’s vegetarian, isn’t it?” Marco asked and took the laughter as answer enough.

* * *

Shanks' presence was common enough that his scent lingered, filling up the crevices in his home to the point that Marco didn't even register it as foreign anymore. He was family to a degree, and part of the home Marco barely let anyone into. Shanks, for all his flaws and quirks, had been around for so long, Marco hadn't even noticed when he'd started thinking of him as someone who brought comfort and mingled in with the scent of home. 

The scent Ace left behind was something entirely different. Maddening, for one, because the wolf was still retreating under the surface, but refused to calm while the intrigue was still hanging in the air. It was overpowering as well, so different from the usual, with the strong component of blood and magic that almost drowned out Ace’s actual scent as well. 

But once he had an idea of who Ace actually was, Marco could almost sense him around town, he could smell traces of him where he’d been without even trying to do it. 

All of it was a bit creepy to him, being aware of where Ace had been recently without really meaning to, feeling as if he was invading someone’s privacy because he couldn’t block it out. It wasn’t an issue usually, having learned long ago how to filter things, but this was different. He hadn’t been petty enough to air out the place just to get every trace of Ace’s presence out, so the constant of his scent was only making Marco attuned to it in a way that wasn’t common to him. 

There were only few he spent so much time around he’d be able to recognize them by scent from miles away, and somehow Ace managed to leave enough of himself behind for it to become the new normal.

Meeting Ace the way he had seemed to have knocked something off balance and his senses, usually completely under his control, were slowly making him lose his mind. It felt like he could pinpoint where Ace was at any given moment, and it was slowly getting to him. 

The problem with catching any hint of Ace, though, was that the wolf in him wanted to follow the trail and search and _ find _him. It was, maybe, a losing battle from the start, ever since he’d left his house for the first time after the full moon and felt Ace everywhere. He couldn’t tell if that was actually true, or a part of him just wanted to be near Ace again to the point where he was imagining things, but in the end it didn’t matter.

He hadn’t caught sight of Ace yet though, just kept getting distracted by the whisper of a scent or a trail of herbs he desperately wanted to follow. The wolf desperately wanted him to follow, but self control was much easier when the moon wasn’t full so Marco hadn’t done anything yet. Despite very much wanting to.

It took four days for his self control to finally slip, and for the wolf to get his way. He had to talk to Ace about the forest anyway, now that Rouge was gone, but that was easily overshadowed by the reasons Marco avoided seeing him just yet.

The bookshop was tucked between the little hipster coffee shop Marco hated on principle, and a fake occult shop that mostly sold Halloween costumes and “cursed items” that were mostly junk. 

Marco had never before been so intimidated of approaching the door, knowing the bell would chime as soon as he went in. And then what? He hadn’t thought things through that far ahead, only wanting to get rid of the sense of anticipation and the constant urge to go looking for Ace again. Marco was increasingly afraid that would become a _ thing _. A thing where he could find Ace with the ease of breathing in and breathing out.

He didn’t want it to become a thing, mainly because he didn’t want to be a creep. As endearingly flirty as Ace had been, it was absolutely possible he wouldn’t like Marco having this kind of knowledge about him. Pissing off the one person who could set the forest alight with magic was, in general, a very bad idea; pissing off Ace in particular was overall even worse. He’d said, very enthusiastically, that he wanted to see Marco again and Marco wasn’t inclined to screw that up.

There was still plenty of curiosity left about Ace, something about him so intriguing that Marco couldn’t just fuck it up. For all he knew, the morning in his kitchen was just a post-full moon dream and coming on too strong could be a big mistake.

Marco did not like making mistakes. 

The bell chimed just like he knew it would, a soft little sound that echoed through the shop. There was no one at the counter in the front, but Marco could feel the magic flowing through the shelves and the books, and could tell with certainty that his arrival didn’t go unnoticed.

He walked further into the shop; normally he was completely at ease within those walls, the magic Rouge wove into the space acting as a buffer between him and everyone else. His senses only experienced a reprieve there, and Marco made sure to visit once in awhile just for the peace and quiet.

This time, it was different. There was so much of Ace in there, his scent and his magic and all of it incredibly intense now that he couldn’t sense anyone on the outside. So much worse than his own home, and Marco had half a mind to just walk back outside and ignore how the scent would cling to his clothes and follow him for the rest of the day.

“Mr Wolf,” Ace said somewhere from the depths of the shop before Marco could do anything stupid, like leave. 

“You finally found me,” he added and Marco spotted him just as he walked around one of the shelves. “Took you long enough.”

He was smiling just as coyly as he’d smiled in Marco’s kitchen, sitting there like he belonged, and Marco had a sudden inexplicable need to see him like that more often, filling up space he rarely let anyone into.

“Couldn’t seem to eager,” Marco said jokingly, unsure how to explain that he’d been fighting with himself for days. Felt silly about that just then.

“I don’t mind eager,” Ace said and the smile turned into a grin as he leaned on the counter to look at Marco from head to toe. 

His apprehension seemed unfounded when Ace looked at him like that, and Marco figured he could actually trust his post shift mind more than he had a habit of.

“I was pretty eager to see you again,” Ace added, stage whispering with a bright smile. 

“Well, I guess I worried for nothing then,” Marco said and smiled back, finally remembering to take his coat off because he did have to stay around for a while longer; they did have actual business to talk over as well at some point, no matter how distracted Marco was getting.

Ace was watching him the entire time while he hung up his coat on one of the hooks near the register, just like he always used to when he was visiting to talk to Rouge.

“You come here often?” Ace asked, and it would have sounded like a pickup line if the smile on his face wasn’t so sincere.

“Every other Wednesday usually,” Marco said, looking over to the counter where he knew Rouge kept her books. “Except for the last two months.”

“So you know my mother well?” Ace asked and pushed away from the counter. 

Marco watched him walk past and to the door only to flip the sign to Closed then flick the lock as well. 

“We could use some privacy, don’t you think,” he added as soon as his eyes met Marco’s. “You were saying?” he prompted with a smile and motioned for Marco to follow him to the back of the shop.

“I don’t think anyone really _ knows _ your mother well,” he said, “but we had tea here regularly.”

Ace laughed at that, but didn’t deny that his mother was a woman of mystery.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked instead, offering Marco a seat. “I can’t promise to make it as well as she does.”

Marco took the seat, the one that was technically his whenever he came over, and shook his head.

“I never told her this, but I don’t actually like tea,” he replied with a grin, and enjoyed every moment of laughter it prompted from Ace. “Not even a little.”

“I promise not to tell,” Ace told him, as if sharing a secret. “Coffee?” he asked, grabbing a mug without waiting for an answer.

“You did say you’d make coffee for me again.”

“I did say that,” Ace said with a hum and turned to start on the coffee. 

Marco stayed quiet for a while, listening to Ace work and hum to himself in a display that was far more domestic than he’d been expecting. Lost in thought, Marco only waited for the silence to be broken.

“As much as I’d like to think you’re here just to flirt some more,” Ace started, only briefly glancing over his shoulder, “I’m guessing there’s something else you want to talk about.”

Marco didn’t exactly deny how much he did want to flirt with Ace now that he was sure it was still very much welcome, but he did snort a little at the confident way Ace spoke about it.

“Well, normally I’d be here to introduce myself to the new person in charge of warding the forest,” Marco said and smiled when Ace glanced at him over his shoulder again, “but we did that already.”

“You never did introduce yourself fully, Mr Wolf,” Ace pointed out. “We should start over then, now that I’m not distracted by your chest.”

Marco snorted again, while Ace turned and walked towards him.

“I’m Ace, son of a witch and charged with warding your forest,” Ace said and reached out to shake Marco’s hand, looking awfully formal. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Marco nodded and took his hand with a smile. “Marco, guardian of the forest and part time ranger,” he said, almost curling around the warmth of Ace’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Ace was the one to let go, but he looked almost as reluctant as Marco felt.

“Don’t forget to add big bad wolf to that introduction,” he added, his smile turning coy again.

Marco laughed, briefly unsure who the last person that made him laugh so often was, before he was back at what Ace was saying, remembering the description he’d used the previous time.

“I think you’ll find that I can be very _ good _ with the right incentive,” he said and noted the slight widening of Ace’s eyes as his smile brightened. 

He looked absolutely _ delighted _ and Marco wanted to see that more often.

“Well now I’m curious,” Ace said and the giddiness was obvious in his voice, making Marco wonder why exactly he’d been worried when Ace was this transparent. 

“Tell me more?” he asked with another smile, but turned towards the counter where he’d left their mugs. “Or will I have to find the right incentive myself?”

He handed one of the mugs to Marco, the one Rouge always reserved for him as well, and Marco couldn’t tell if that was just a coincidence or they both just thought Snoopy was a good fit for him.

“I hear you’re _ wicked smart _,” Marco started, emphasising Shanks’ words with a grin, “so I’m sure it won’t be a hardship.”

Ace outright laughed at that, dropping the flirty smile for a moment to replace it with something overwhelmingly genuine. 

“Don’t tell me you know Shanks,” he said through the laughter. “Should I be worried about what he’s said about me? I feel like that may lower my chances with you by a lot.”

Marco laughed too, not surprised by that assessment in the slightest.

“He didn’t say much, just that you’re wicked smart,” Marco said, “and just plain wicked.”

Ace groaned at that, but it was obviously in good humor, followed by another laugh and Marco was sure he’d never grow bored of that sound.

“He also called you an evil genius type,” he added just to make the laughter last longer.

Marco took a sip of his coffee while Ace laughed, his eyes shining with mirth. 

“Oh is that all?” he asked, wiping at the corner of his eye. 

“Well,” Marco started, laughing a little at the snort Ace let out as soon as the word left his mouth, “apparently that’s just my type so you’re in luck.”

“That is very lucky for me,” Ace told him, and gods Marco couldn’t get enough of that smile. He really did look just a right amount of wicked when he smiled like that, but in the best possible way. 

“Lucky for both of us, I’m sure,” Marco added and sipped at his coffee some more, because it was actually very good and Ace spoiled him completely just by making coffee once because nothing he made tasted as good after.

“How do you know Shanks?” Marco asked when Ace just looked at him, allowing for a pause in their conversation long enough for a real question.

And this particular question prompted another laugh out of Ace. 

“He was my babysitter,” he said, then considered his words for a moment. “Kind of.”

Marco only raised his eyebrow at that, sure Ace would take it as an invitation to tell him more.

“I was technically too old for a babysitter, but I also didn’t have any friends,” he continued, sounding less sad than his words suggested. “Probably on account of that wicked thing,” he added with that grin Marco was coming to love, “so my dad asked Shanks to keep an eye on me when he had the time.”

“How old was he?” Marco asked, having a hard time imagining Shanks looking after kids.

“He was in high school,” Ace told him. “Not that much older than me, probably why he even tolerated me most of the time.”

He looked lost in a happy memory, if the soft smile was anything to go by.

“Am I right to assume you did something to warrant the wicked title?” Marco asked, bringing Ace’s attention back to him. His attention and his laughter, that bubbled out of him.

“Oh, definitely,” he said brightly, sounding happy to relive all of the memories he was remembering. “I’m sure he can laugh about most of them now.”

“I’m going to have to ask him about some of that,” Marco said.

He was relaxing into his chair, barely noticing that the ease he normally felt in the bookshop was coming back and the fact that it was bursting with Ace’s presence didn’t register as drastically anymore. It was becoming soothing rather than a source of discomfort. 

“Please ask him about the lake,” Ace said, sounding like he was barely containing the laughter. “But don’t waste that, save it for when he’s being an asshole.”

Marco had to grin at that, thrilled that there was finally someone who knew Shanks well enough to know how to piss him off with ease. Turning the tables on Shanks sounded like incredible fun.

“He’s always an asshole,” Marco said and watched with amusement as Ace almost choked on his coffee from laughing too hard. 

“You’re a bit of an asshole too, aren’t you?” Ace asked, probably noting the look on Marco’s face. “And here you are, convincing me you’re good.”

“I said I can be good with the right incentive,” Marco said with a laugh. “You’re not providing enough incentive just yet.”

Ace narrowed his eyes, considering Marco with undivided attention for a couple of very long moments. He didn’t hate the scrutiny at all, completely comfortable under Ace’s gaze, with the thrum of magic all around them. 

It was a feeling he could very well get used to.

“Out of curiosity,” Ace started, and Marco was preparing for something direct, something meant to throw him off a little, and he loved the prospect of it. He leaned forward a bit, still looking Marco over while a smile tugged at his lips, Marco could tell by the corner of his mouth.

“If I were to find that right incentive, and you do behave,” he said, and the coy smile was back, as if he thought Marco was incapable of behaving, but willing to indulge him for the time being. Surely, it would have made Marco’s knees weak if he’d been standing.

“Yes?” Marco asked, just to prompt him to continue, realizing his freckles brightened as he grinned. It was a sight to behold, while feeling the magic around him flicker with a renewed intensity.

“Would it be wrong of me to call you a good boy?” Ace asked and Marco recognized the thrum around him as the amusement that was so clear on Ace’s face, in the way he grinned and his eyes were bright with it.

“I’m sure could find a compromise there,” Marco said, watching as Ace leaned back, laughing with his entire body. 

“You know, I like you,” he said and the grin was still firmly in place as he looked back to Marco, so open and honest, and not a single shadow of self doubt visible on him. 

“How lucky for me,” Marco said and smiled back, still thrown by how much he smiled when Ace was around.

“Hm,” Ace hummed, eyes narrow, but the curl of his lips was unmistakable. “I should find that incentive fast, or you’ll continue being mean like that.”

“You can find it,” Marco told him, sounding just a bit like an asshole and loving it, “I believe in you.”

Ace looked like he wanted to laugh, but stopped himself just for a while longer. 

“I guess I need a chance to find it then,” he said, something wicked about him again that Marco liked seeing. “Would you like to come back for coffee next week?” he asked and Marco could see where this was going.

“Let’s say Wednesday?” he added, and there was definitely something wicked there, but in the best way Marco could imagine.

“I would love to,” Marco said honestly, some of Ace’s confidence rubbing off on him. “Maybe I’ll even see you before then?”

It was Ace’s turn to look at him with nothing but open honesty, the wicked glint gone for the moment. 

“Maybe,” he said with a smile that he didn’t manage to quite hide behind his mug, just like he’d done in Marco’s kitchen, but it reached his eyes and said more than enough.


End file.
